


Non-Negotiable

by musicofthespheres



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Boundaries, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Fix-It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Maturity, Expectations, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Grief, Grieving, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, Lost Love, Orion Nebula, Processing, Unrequited Crush, martha jones deserved better so she's gonna get it here, moving forward, talking about boundaries, the family of blood - Freeform, wish fulfillment: healthy conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-30 07:37:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21424597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicofthespheres/pseuds/musicofthespheres
Summary: The Doctor grieves in silence.Martha is tired of feeling shut out from his past, and pitied for her unrequited feelings toward him.It's about time they had an actual healthy adult conversation to talk about their feelings and boundaries.
Relationships: Past Tenth Doctor & Rose Tyler, Tenth Doctor & Martha Jones
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	Non-Negotiable

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta'd. 
> 
> I wrote this in a single day to help me emotionally process the loss of a friend. Please be gentle with any critique or criticism if you must give it at all.

Martha Jones knew a thing or two about loss. Grief took on many forms; sometimes it poured out in anguished cries. Sometimes, in the hospital, she would see people walking out, faces devoid of all expression. One foot in front of the other. Numb. And sometimes, and perhaps most often, they were silent. Disbelief, shock… shutting down.

The Doctor grieved in silence. 

Sure, the manic excitement that came with every new locale and each unsolved mystery might have fooled some, if they were thick. But Time Lords needed down time too, and in those moments when they drifted among the stars, no destination in mind, Martha preparing for her exams and the Doctor working on something or other on the TARDIS console, he was silent. 

She had almost grown used to the way he would brush off her questions, skirt around the sore subjects. Sometimes it looked like he wanted to tell her everything, but knew that if he started he wouldn’t be able to stop, and he’d be laid bare and vulnerable before this… this _human_ he barely knew. Martha wanted so badly for that not to matter to him so much. And, damn it, of _course_ he didn’t owe her an explanation if he didn’t want to give one. That was his to tell if and when he was ready. Martha knew that! There were things she didn’t feel like sharing with him either, even when he asked. _If_ he asked.   
From what she had gathered, the Doctor was _old_. He’d lived so many lifetimes, traveling among the stars. Exploring, discovering, helping people. Martha pretended it didn’t hurt when he fell into easy repartee with people they just met. On the surface it looked like he afforded her the same, but there was something guarded in his manner toward her. 

She suspected it had everything to do with her feelings toward him. He pretended not to notice, outright ignored them, but she knew he knew they were there. She saw the pity in his eyes when she wore her heart on her sleeve. He couldn’t help it, but neither could she. 

But then the Family found them in 1913, and Martha put her feelings into words, and the Doctor _remembered_-

And avoided. 

They spent the next three weeks (well, so to speak, when one is a time-traveller, it’s hard to make the distinction sometimes) bouncing from planet to planet, era to era, adventure to adventure without ceasing.

Finally, Martha had had enough. 

He was in the middle of explaining some technical future-jargon that flew right over her head, words spilling out a mile a minute like they always did, without regard for who was listening. It was like he was externalizing the explanation to reassure himself of his relative position, his relative _intelligence_ compared to the rest of the universe. 

“_Doctor!_” Martha finally shouted, after calling him at least thrice. He looked up sharply, glasses perched on the tip of his nose and mouth agape, like he just realized for the first time that she was standing there. 

“Yes?” he asked innocently, eyes skittering over her nervously, noting her hands on her hips and her serious expression.

“We need-” Martha cut herself off before she could say _we need to talk_. “We need to take a break.” 

Processing, processing…   
“Ah, yes, sorry,” the Doctor said, brows furrowing with sudden realization. “Sorry, I forget sometimes that you humans can’t understand half of what I’m saying. It does get away from me-” 

“No, Doctor. From-” she waved her hands around at the TARDIS. “The go-go-go. We need to slow down.” She’d long since stopped being offended when he referred to her as _you humans_. 

“Oh.” His brow stayed furrowed. 

“Yeah. Was wondering if we could, I don’t know, go float around a nebula for a bit or something. A _quiet_ nebula.” Martha looked away. “And maybe we can talk. We haven’t just talked in a long time, not since before-” her heart sped up thinking about the confession she’d made - it must be nice to have two hearts to handle all the excitement of life. “Before you were John Smith.” 

“Ah. Yes,” the Doctor said, nodding to himself. “That.” 

“Yes, that.” Martha shot him a humourless smile, almost a grimace. Several beats passed. Her heartbeat pounded against her chest. Why did he look scared?

The Doctor sucked in a deep breath and stared at her a moment longer, mouth agape again. “When you say ‘talk,’” he began, then trailed off. It wasn’t often Martha caught him at a loss for words except when talking about more _sensitive_ issues. 

“I mean have a proper, adult conversation.” Martha crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows at him expectantly. “We need to talk about the elephant in the room. It isn’t healthy.” 

“Lots of room for an elephant in the TARDIS,” the Doctor mumbled as he turned away from her, nonchalantly flipping switches and levers. Then, louder, “Any particular nebula you wanted to see?” 

Martha shook her head. “Whichever one you like.” 

The engines started up, making that peculiar whirring she knew she’d recognize anywhere. They rematerialized, and the Doctor stepped away from the console, walking toward the doors with his hands in his pockets, shoulders slouched. With a kick from his Converse-clad toe, the door swung open to reveal a purple and red gaseous cloud. “The Orion Nebula,” he announced, over-enunciating the last _a_ the way he did whenever he was being needlessly dramatic. 

For a long moment, Martha forgot why they had made their stop. Months of traveling with him, and she never ceased to be filled with _wonder_ at the beauty of the cosmos. At least that was something they had in common, she mused. The Doctor had been traveling far longer and still felt all the same admiration and wonder for the universe that she did. She watched the clouds of dust and gas wisp around in little eddies as the TARDIS lazily floated by. Nothing like witnessing the natural forces of the universe to put your problems into perspective. She plopped herself down and hung her feet out over the edge, into space. 

The Doctor joined her. 

“So,” she said. 

“So,” he replied. Of course he would make her come out and say it. He didn’t want to have this conversation any more than she did. He was happy to do anything he could to dull the memories of _her_. Of Rose. That included skirting away from the issue altogether.

“So,” Martha said again, looking down at her shaking, sweaty hands. Her heart rate had only increased, and now it felt like it was trying to burst out of her chest like a xenomorph or something. Briefly, she wondered if the Doctor’s hearts were doing the same. “I know I said I’d say anything to get you to- to get John Smith to change back into you.” 

“Mhm.” 

“And I would have. Anything at all, even if it were a lie. But, well, it’s true. What I said. I _do_ love you. You _are_ everything.” 

He took a deep breath, slow inhale, slow exhale. “Martha-”

She snapped up a stern hand to stop him. “No, Doctor. I’m speaking. Let me speak. Just listen. We need to have this conversation, and I’m afraid it’s non-negotiable.” Big talk, for somebody who could find herself dumped back in her bedroom at a moment’s notice to be left there for good. It was all she could do to keep her voice from shaking uncontrollably.

Their eyes locked for a long moment - his, wild and wise and maybe a little scared, and hers, shining and earnest and _also_ scared. Scared witless, she would say, except that she fought to keep her wits about her. He wasn’t used to being told what to do, but he obeyed her anyway.

“I know you don’t feel the same way. And that’s _fine_, I don’t care, but you need to stop _pitying_ me for it. I’m going to feel what I feel, and that’s my problem. I just wish you would let me in.” 

He made to speak, but closed his mouth. She wasn’t done.

“I know you lost Rose. And I’m very sorry for that. It’s never easy to lose someone, and I know you cared about her so much-”

“I did,” he whispered quietly. “I do.”

She didn’t mind the small interruption. “I know you do, Doctor. But you- bottling it up and not even acknowledging it, it’s not healthy. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, but please stop pretending everything is okay when it isn’t.” She paused, letting him say what he clearly wanted to say.

“I have lived over 900 years, Martha Jones,” he said, gazing back out toward the nebula and kicking his feet back and forth like a kid. “900 years, and I have lost _so many_ people. And it never gets any easier.”

“I know, Doctor, and I’m so sorry. But have you ever taken the time to just… grieve for them? For her? Have you ever paused and taken a moment and just let yourself _feel_?”

“I don’t know if I’ve ever felt like I did when I lost her.” He paused. “And yes. But I move on because I have to. I throw myself into, into-” he mirrors her earlier gesture, waving at the TARDIS and the universe outside. “All this, because it’s all I have. I like your company, Martha, but you couldn’t possibly understand what a lonely existence I live.” 

Somehow, her hand found its way into his and she gave him a sympathetic squeeze. “Maybe not perfectly, but I have a big imagination, Doctor.” 

That earned her a smile, even if it was a little one. “That you do, Martha Jones. That you do.” 

They watched the nebula for a while longer. 

“It’s okay to be sad for what you’ve lost, Doctor. It just means that your hearts are full of love. And they won’t ever be full. You’ll continue loving for as long as you live, I know you will.” She placed her other hand on top of his and intertwined their fingers. 

“You’re sad, too,” he finally murmured. “And I’m sorry. We’ve both had a rough time of it, feeling our feelings.” He pulled out the long e and chuckled. “And I need you to know, I do care about you. Very much. I’m sorry I can’t feel the same way about you that you do about me. I won’ say never, but-” Martha swore she saw a hint of dampness at the corners of his eyes, too.

“You can’t force feelings.” Martha understood that. It was nice to see him acknowledge it, too.

He looked over at her and smiled. “This TARDIS has seen her fair share of tears, alright.” 

“I bet she has.” Her head found his shoulder, resting against it and already feeling the burden of - resentment? - lift from her chest. “There’s more I need to say,” Martha said finally, breaking the silence. “I think we need to talk about, about- boundaries.” 

“Yes,” the Doctor agreed with a nod, shaking the both of them gently. “Okay.”

“You don’t have to tell me everything in a list right now, but it would be good to know what’s off-limits to ask about. And I need to know what makes you uncomfortable when it comes to my, um,” she said, clearing her throat. “Well, I like you, and it’s hard not to show it. But if it’s too much, or if I need to back off at a certain point, it’ll be easier if I know beforehand.” 

The Doctor nodded. “You first.” 

Taken aback, Martha blinked in rapid succession. In this latest in a series of rare moments of not being self-absorbed - because as much as she loved him for everything he’d shown her and the time they’d spent together, by _god_ did the man ever have an inflated sense of himself - he had asked her, genuinely, about her feelings without shying away. She had no idea how to respond.  
“Right,” she said. “Um. I’d rather not hear about… your past, um.” She cleared her throat again. “Liaisons. Unless it’s relevant,” she amended. “Relevance overrides that.” Her face grew stern and she poked his chest. “Especially if you’re going to be taking me places you’ve been before.” 

He frowned contemplatively and nodded. “Not _too_ many… liaisons, to speak of. Should be easy enough to avoid. What else?”

He was being surprisingly open about this. Martha decided that this was the best thing she could have done, to speak up and make him sit with her and actually talk. It was the getting-going that was the hard part, but once the words started flowing it was much easier to handle. “Good, good. Um. This one’s not so much an off-limits topic as it is, uh, a behaviour.” 

“What’s that, then?” 

“Please don’t flirt with me unless you mean it.” A little sniffle escaped her, accompanied by a quivering lower lip. She used all of her willpower right then to put a stop to that nonsense. “Or, or-”

“Unless it’s relevant?”

“Yeah, that. But even then, the bare _minimum_. Snogging me in a hospital corridor like your life depends on it probably was a little overkill, especially when we’d just met.” Her fingers brushed subconsciously over her lips and she laughed - or scoffed, or both - at the memory. 

His eyes, dark and old and sad, followed her every little move. His hand found its way to her face, his thumb brushing away an errant tear that had escaped her death-grip like the little traitor it was. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I really am. I forget, sometimes, that humans… well,” he smirked, but not unkindly, “that a lot of species, in fact, see that kind of contact as very intimate. I will remember for next time.” 

There were a lot of cultures where a kiss - maybe not _quite_ as passionate as that one - did not hold meaning beyond greeting or honor or what have you. Time Lords could very well be the same, but part of Martha knew that the Doctor had been around humans long enough to know better. “At the very least, you could ask first. Ah-” she held up a finger to stop him interrupting. “I know there wasn’t a lot of time with the Judoon, but for the future.” 

The Doctor nodded firmly. “Yes. You’re absolutely right. Are you okay with,” he wiggled their clasped hands. “This?” 

Martha squeezed his hand again. “Yes. This is nice. I’d like - I’d like it if you could treat me the way you’d treat a close friend who wasn’t in love with you.” It felt weird to say it so many times, but Martha was tired of denying her feelings. It was a fact of life between them, and as long as he was kind and didn’t take advantage or manipulate her using her feelings, then it would be fine. “Okay. Those were the two big ones. What about you?” 

His contemplation stretched the silence for ages. The TARDIS had nearly floated past the nebula by now, but to see the stars through the doors was beautiful all the same. “I _would_ like to take you to the places where I took her. A sort of tour de univers.” 

“To say goodbye. That would be a nice way to honour her memory,” Martha said. For the first time since they’d met, hearing him talk about Rose didn’t totally shatter her heart. 

“I think so,” the Doctor said. 

“Alright,” Martha said, squeezing his hand. “Let’s do that.” 

“And,” the Doctor added. “Sometimes questions catch me off-guard. I’ll be having a jolly good time and then somebody asks a perfectly ordinary question without realizing its significance.” 

“Like when I asked about your planet.” 

He smiled sadly. “Yes, like that.”

“Maybe you can say that you’ll tell me about it later, and I’ll know to drop the subject.” This was good progress. She could work with this.

“Molto bene,” the Doctor grinned. “You’re so smart, Martha Jones. Brain-smart. _Feelings_-smart.” 

“Ha! Hardly.” Martha laughed, loud and genuine. “I’m just _human_, Doctor. And I think that’s why you’re traveling with me, isn’t it?” 

The Doctor laughed in sync and leaned over to press his forehead against her temple. “Right as usual, Miss Jones. Now, then!” He leapt to his feet, clapping once before offering her a hand to stand up. “I have a lot of maintenance to catch up on.” He grinned that mesmerizing, playful grin of his, and _skipped_ toward the TARDIS console. “And you have some studying to do!” 

\---

“I wouldn’t mind hearing about her and your time together, if you ever wanted to share,” Martha told him later. They were relaxing in one of the recreation rooms. She’d just had her butt kicked at _Game of Zarp!_ for the fifth time, and she was about ready for a break to soothe her wounded ego.

There was a new atmosphere between them. Still a little tense, but more like the tension in a muscle that could be kneaded out rather than the awkward tension you could cut with a butter knife. It was a lot more relaxed than before, that was for sure. 

“Yeah?” the Doctor said, cracking a bigger and more sincere smile than she’d seen from him in - well, ever. His eyes were still sad. She knew from experience that there would always be that part of him that missed Rose, but she also thought going on the tour was an excellent idea. 

“Yeah,” Martha replied with a reassuring smile. “When my great aunt died, I found it helped to talk about the nice memories.” 

“Alright. Once in a while, then, I’ll tell you a story about Rose and me.”

He was finally letting her in. She kicked herself - they could have had this conversation _weeks_ ago, but then again…  
Maybe the timing hadn’t been quite right. Maybe it had needed to reach this boiling point where everything spilled out and bubbled over for them to realize they needed to turn the stove down. It felt good this way. Right. Better.   
Martha couldn’t be happier.


End file.
